


Enervation

by RepliedGrunt7



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Danny just needs a nap, Horror, Hurt Danny, Identity Reveal, Protective A-Listers, Skulker has some real problems, The observants got into some fucked up shit a thousand years ago, only slightly though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RepliedGrunt7/pseuds/RepliedGrunt7
Summary: Danny is up to his neck in exhaustion - bombarded with ghost fights practically every minute of every hour.He’s been wrung dry and can hardly will himself to be anything but sluggish and angry. With things quickly become overwhelming the AListers end up stepping up to the plate.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The art shown at the end is by me - enjoy ;)

**_chpt 1_ **

She noticed almost the second he walked in the room, late as always. But something was definitely different. The tint on the right side of his face and under the scruff of his hoodie - was clearly a different shade than his skin. 

He was sweating, and slouched; more so than usual, and his bag was dangling in his hand as opposed to being on his back.

“Mr. Fenton.” Mr Lancer greeted, not bothering to look at him from his place at the board. “Nice of you to join us.”

The teen didn’t reply; instead opting to make his way to his seat, which was only a couple spaces from her.

That, in itself, was a little odd. 

Fenton almost always had some thrown together excuse ready. 

When he got closer, she could better see the strange bumps and lumps in his skin. As well as the obvious color difference and texture. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. 

_Fenton’s wearing makeup._

She glanced over to Paulina to see if the latina noticed the same thing, but she was too preoccupied whispering to Macy, another girl on the cheer squad. Star leaned over and lightly poked her in the arm. When she didn’t even flinch Star did it again, a little harsher. 

“Paulina!”

Casper’s queen bee whipped around to give the blonde an annoyed look, which she pointedly ignored. “Look at Fenton.”

“Why?”

“He’s wearing makeup.”

* * *

Sam was on an excursion to Europe with her parents - a vacation - _‘to bring the family together.'_

Or at least that was what her mom had said. 

For weeks, the goth had made hissed snide complaints about it, letting her displeasure be known to anyone and everyone. 

Tuck, his right hand man, was also gone - out to Colorado for a rather sudden funeral of a family member he had never really met. 

They were both supposed to be gone for a couple weeks. 

Which ultimately ended up _sucking_ for him, since the second they left it was like the whole universe suddenly decided to dunk him in tar. Sticky - heavy - smelly - _tar_. 

It hadn’t even been a week yet! - only four measly days - going on five. But the days were nothing short of exhausting, painful, and incredibly _annoying_. He had probably gotten 8 hours of sleep, 9 tops, so… 2-3 hours of sleep a night? Followed by intense physical exertion? A normal person probably would’ve given out days ago, but being a halfa had its advantages (or disadvantages.)

The bags under his eyes could've held _mountains_. 

Black, blue, yellow, green; bruising contrasted against his pale skin - painfully obvious along his neck and jaw. There was a sharp pain that would shoot up his arm occasionally from a couple gashes; stitched up and wrapped but still hurting as much as was when they were fresh. The same went for his ribs - surely broken - if the intense heat and rasping breaths were anything to go by. 

_Aragon._

His grip on the sink tightened and he had to stop himself from breaking it when he heard the creaking of the porcelain. “Dammit.”

His wounds weren’t healing as fast as they should be. It must’ve been because of the lack of sleep. 

He scoffed. 

Four days. 

Is that all it took for him to burn out without his two friends? Well... Jazz was still there, but it just wasn’t the same. 

_There’s no way I can go to school looking like this._

A small bout of dread sunk in his stomach. Sam wasn’t there to help him with his appearance like she normally was, and he didn’t exactly have any of her makeup on hand. Though he knew Jazz did.

Quietly, Danny floated out of the bathroom and through his room, glancing at the clock that read 6:34am. His first class was at 8 and his parents and sister usually woke up around 7. He had to be quick. 

The cool chill of intangibility spread across his body, then invisibility. Quickly he floated into his sisters room and to her vanity dresser. 

Danny looked through her drawers until he found what he was looking for - Jazz's old makeup box from her middle school years.

He remembered that birthday, because the redhead had been so excited that mom had gotten her something non-ghost related. She had practically bounced off the walls. Danny remembers her watching tons of make-up videos - to get good at it - but after her first year of high school, Jazz had decided she was becoming too insecure whenever she had it on. She had went on and on about what makeup could do to certain people physiologically. Frankly, he was happy when she decided to stop wearing it. Now she only wore the stuff for special occasions or when she simply felt like it. 

He snatched the box swiftly and went to leave the room, taking one last look at the sleeping redhead. Softly, he smiled. 

After Sam and Tuck left, Jazz had been making sure to check up on him as much as her busy schedule would allow. Sometimes it got annoying, but it warmed him that she cared so much. 

He probably should ask her for help… she was definitely better at it than him.. But he didn’t want to worry her or run the risk of getting analyzed by her, like she was prone to do. 

Shaking his head, Danny trudged back into his bathroom, opening the purple box to see a multitude of materials. He grabbed the things that seemed familiar and threw them half-hazardously on his counter, taking out his phone. 

_‘How to put makeup on to cover up -_ well… he couldn’t exactly put _deep bruising_ so he settled for - _zits’_

Multiple articles popped up, but he just clicked on the first convenient one. The website it took him to was colorful, with brush and eyeshadow ads on the sides. He followed the pictures and skimmed through the main parts of the list of how-tos. 

_So… first thing is.. primer?_

Looking through Jazz’s things, he couldn’t find anything that looked like the photo, but did find a couple of tan colored tube things that were in the second photo. He scanned the article again. But found his brows furrowing. The words were all just a jumbled mess. 

He sighed and turned off his phone. 

_Looks like I’m winging this._

Grabbing the first thing that looked right (a container of tan concealer) he squeezed a fair amount onto a soft pad and softly put it on his bruises and under his eyes. 

His head tilted and he got closer to the mirror. 

It looked splotchy. 

Gently, he found his fingers spreading the tan goo to make it thinner, wiping off any excess. He grabbed the powder, making a half-effort to blend the color of the concealer and his skin. It didn’t look right, but he didn’t particularly care. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be looking close. He just had to keep his head down the whole day, like he usually did. 

It helped that it was a Thursday, so he didn’t have gym class with Mrs. Teslaff. 

A shrill beeping sound came from past the door and he jerked slightly. His alarm was going off - 7 O’clock. 

Danny almost growled. 

That sound was the _bane_ of his existence.

But it was good in the sense that it let him know it was time to get ready for another, most likely, stressful and exhausting day. With a heavy body, he trudged around his room, grabbing various things for the day. He put on a pair of worn jeans and a typical plain white T-shirt. 

To hide the scars and bandage on his arm, he put on his favorite cover up. A light, dark grey hoodie with the NASA icon on the back.

Before getting the hoodie, he’d often complain to Sam and Tucker about how itchy and hot he’d get when wearing the cheap long sleeve shirts and sweaters his family got him. Especially on a hot day. 

So, his friends, being as amazing as they were, bought the hoodie at the Amity mall for his birthday and took it to Frostbite. The yeti had done _something_ to the fabric. He wasn’t quite sure what, but whatever it was made the hoodie _extremely_ comfortable. 

It was forever cool to the touch and reminded him fondly of the Far Frozen - having the calming crisp smell of freshly fallen snow forever woven into its threads. He hadn’t felt the need to complain since. 

Stiffly, he pulled it through his arms and over his head, pings of pain ghosting underneath his skin. There was a knock at the door. “Danny? You up?” 

It was Jazz. 

“Yeah, I’ll be-” He started simply, but halfway through, his vocal cords decided to croak tiredly. A strange sound, like he had started to sigh only to be abruptly cut off came out of his mouth. He shook it off. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He repeated. 

There was silence, then a timid, “Okay.”

…

Breakfast was slightly disastrous and quick as usual. His dad was much too awake, bubbly and loud, speaking in tongues about some new invention him and mom were working on. Mom had brewed a pot of coffee, the smell mixed with the distinct bacon aroma, colliding to meet his nose. His stomach lurch in craving. After eating a couple pieces of the thin sliced pig he half heartedly tried to grab a cup of the coffee, but his mom stopped him. Hypocritically, she says it was bad for him and that he didn’t need it anyways. _‘you're your father's son’_ she had added at the end. 

He stifled a scoff. But guessed it didn’t matter too much anyways.

Caffeine never really stayed in his systems long enough and he was much too tired to fight about it. 

That was when the two parents had decided to mouth off about the typical subject. Ghost vermin, advanced weaponry, and how _‘that ghost boy won’t see us coming!’_

Jazz took that as her cue to leave with him, grabbing her keys off the counter and ushering him out under the false impression that they were late. 

They stepped outside, Jazz already two feet from her beat up old red Hatchback while he stood there at the top of the three concrete steps, dumbly observing how the wind from the night had followed the sun into the morning.

He took a couple simple breaths. 

Danny wasn’t particularly a morning person, preferring to instead wake up during mid-day whenever he could, but sometimes he could find the time to truly enjoy the feelings only the morning could create. The crisp air filled his lungs, making him feel even more exhausted with how calm it was. 

This wasn’t what he wanted. 

He didn’t want to be up. He wanted under silky sheets, a heavy comforter, surrounded by soft pillows.. _that_ sounded so unbelievably _good_. 

“Let’s go Danny.” Jazz called. He shakily nodded and joined his sister.

The drive was quiet, music softly playing in the background - a soft french song Jazz often played in the morning. He leaned heavily on the closed door, eyes glazed over with a fatigue only rare people would understand. They had to have been halfway to the school when a familiar chill ran up his spine. 

He groaned in exaggeration, hitting his head softly on the dashboard of the car. White rings slowly spread across his body and Phantom sat there in place of Fenton. The halfa grunted. “Gotta go Jazz.”

The car slowed down until they were parked on the side of the road. “Do you.. need any help?” 

“Nah.” His fingers wrapped around his worn out school bag, but he didn’t move to put it around his shoulders. He tried to before breakfast, but the bag annoyingly hurt his chest so he settled for just carrying it. “Just head to school, I’ll fly there when I’m done.”

Jazz looked like she wanted to protest, but instead she mumbled a sincere ‘be safe’. He just nodded and took off invisibly in search of whatever ghost decided to make an appearance in the seemingly never ending chain of them. 

“You just don’t understand girly! Give up on him! All he’s going to do is disappoint you.” It was Kitty’s voice. 

His stomach lurched as it wasn’t someone as simple as the Box Ghost or the wayward ectopuss, but Danny guessed it could have always been worse. Kitty was most definitely just looking for someone to listen; a willing outlet for her to get the heavy emotions she was often feeling off her chest. At least it was never a physical fight. Not anymore.

At the moment, she was ranting to an innocent couple. A blonde woman and a nimble man. Both trying - and failing - to back away from the ghost girl. 

Danny became visible and hovered over ground. 

“Kitty,” He started. She and the couple whipped around towards him. “You maybe wanna leave the nice couple alone?”

“Phantom!” The man exclaimed, hopeful relief washing over his features. Danny gave him and the woman a simple smile to put them at ease. 

Kitty had different emotions flash across her face at the sight of him. Surprise, excitement, and then sudden pity. If he hadn’t been feeling so tired, he might’ve noticed.

“Yep. That’s me… um,” The halfa turned his gaze blankly to the biker ghost. “Kitty? How bout’ we go somewhere to talk. I’m assuming Johnny..” He wanted a lazy hand. “did something dumb?”

The girl’s red denim jacket rustled as her arms crossed. She huffed. “The fact that you know right away makes me wonder why I’m still with him.”

The halfa didn’t say anything in reply, instead opting to gently grab the girls elbow and begin pulling her up towards the roof of the closest apartment building. Lucky for him, the biker girl didn’t object. 

“Sorry for the trouble.” He mumbled to the couple. 

Once they were out of sight, he let Kitty go. 

Danny’s relationship with the biker couple wasn’t bad - not like it was at first. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t started to think of them as friends. Of course they still liked to wreak havoc on occasion, but never for nefarious purposes like most other ghosts. They just needed some intervention to vent out their stress. But Danny _really_ wasn’t in the mood to play the middle man; and he had to get to school. 

Harshly, one hand started rubbing the space between his furrowed brows, the other firmly clasped on his hip. There was an internal shake in his overused muscles that he hoped she hadn’t noticed. “Listen Kitty, is there any way you can just.. go back home and.. maybe get some girl talk with Ember? Like right now? I promise you can rant to me later and we’ll-”

“Danny.” Rather suddenly, Kitty’s hands were on his shoulders and she was looking at him with creased eyebrows. “You doing okay?” 

He blinked. 

_Did he really look that terrible?_

“Y-yeah..” He stuttered, then repeated himself, more surely. “Yes. I’m fine.”

The girl shifted. There was silent worry in her gaze. “I knew Skulker’s plan was pretty solid but I didn’t think it’d work _this_ good.” She had spoken so quiet he almost didn’t hear her. But he had and found that he didn’t like what she said. His body went rigid. “What plan.”

There was a small pause. “Skulker found out that your friends went out of town and got to talking to the other ghosts..” She shrugged. “Figured if they could all band together to tire you out, he could finally beat you.”

The halfa sighed, and brought both hands up to rub at his bleary eyes. “Of course he did. _"_ He paused _. "Of_ **_course_ ** _he did.”_

Kitty nervously rubbed at her arm. “I promise. Me and Johnny _aren’t_ a part of it; and if we’d known it would cause _this_ much of a problem we would’ve warned you.”

He didn’t reply for a couple minutes. Trying to think everything through in his mind was like climbing up a mountain in 6 feet of snow. 

Jumbled and messy. 

The halfa felt like he should be angry, agitated - or something. But he just felt wrung out, stretched thin. “Thanks for telling me. But can you-” He closed his eyes. “ _Leave?_ ”

“Yeah… I’ll just come back.. another time.” 

She was gone in the blink of an eye. Literally. 

He took a second to be still, then reached into his bag for his phone to check the time. 7:58. 

_A late showing by one Danny Fenton yet again_. He thought sourly.

Though he did owe it to Mr. Lancer to at least _try_. Flying, Danny arrived at the school in a little under 10 minutes - significantly slower than he could’ve if he was in prime condition. He landed behind the school dumpster, transformed, and jogged lightly to the front of the school. 

His ribs protested and his arm throbbed; but despite, he kept up the pace. Once in the main hall, Danny slowed down and dragged his shaky limbs to Mr. Lancer’s plain classroom door. 

“Mr. Fenton,” Lancer’s voice was toneless. “Nice of you to join us.”

The cords in his throat seemed to constrict as so he didn’t trust himself to reply; and didn’t have the energy to think of an excuse. So silently, Danny trudged to his seat. 

Once there, he slumped on the thick plastic chair heavily, if not a little stiffly due to his ribs and dropped his bag to the floor. 

Lancer continued to drone at the front of the class, his voice surprisingly soothing to hear. 

Out of all his teachers, the man was his favorite. Which was strange, as he was also the most strict, but the halfa knew it was only because he cared. 

“The significance of The Great Gatsby is all about the american dream…”

Ever so slowly, the teacher's lecture drifted further and farther away until his head eventually rested on his folded arms. The force of gravity was too strong. Tempting. Voices and sounds ebbed away until all that was left was his limited, half-lid vision. 

He couldn't recall the foreign feeling that began to sink into his bones. He felt unnervingly relaxed. Even the dull pulse of his wounds were comforting in their own way.

…. 

Danny probably should’ve been replaying what Kitty had told him in his head, figure out what his next move was; he _needed_ to text Sam and Tucker about it. Maybe je should've been paying attention to the lecture so he’d be ready for the final test of the unit.. next week? 

Yet, he did none of those things. 

Instead Danny’s eyes closed and his body shut down; but the next thing he knew _wasn’t_ the sweet release of sleep - it was the shrill scream of the bell. 

He jerked with a start, heart almost leaping out of his chest. 

That had to have been the quickest class in the history of classes. 

Everyone stood up in tandem, rushing out of the room while chatting adamantly. It was suddenly too loud. Too bright. Too _fast_. 

He sat stock still until everyone was gone, leaving only him and Mr. Lancer. Said teacher was absently moving papers on his desk. "Daniel, I do believe I don’t need to keep you. You may go as you already know what I am going to say.”

 _Detention_ echoed unsaid in the room.

The halfa nodded, and moved to leave.. Though perhaps he grabbed his bag a little too slow or dragged his feet a little too much, but Lancer's body language suddenly shifted. Simple teacher turned caring mentor in a snap. 

That familiar gleam in his eyes had the halfa practically high tail it out of there. 

That gleam, was the same gleam adults typically got when they were about to start asking questions to things Danny didn’t want to answer. Not because they were hard, but because they hit a little too close to home. 

And out of all the adults, the balding teacher scared him the most. Especially after the halfa had almost poured his heart out to the man after the whole evil future thing. 

Danny shivered. 

He was sure that one of these days Lancer would find out his secret. If nothing else, but because of the man's insistence on the topic of his life.

… 

It was only because he cared. 

… 

“Watch it pea brain!” 

A thick shoulder rammed into him in the hall, almost sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain in his chest and arm shot up to fizzle in his head, momentarily stunting him. Danny hardly felt the grip on his half-opened bag fail. But once the shock left, he looked to his notebooks and assignments scattered on the ground. Multiple uncaring peers kept walking.

The halfa stood there; and stared at the mess.

Everyone must’ve started thinking he had brain damage or something because it felt like he didn’t move for a _long time_. Then - out of the corner of his eye - Danny saw a tan hand reach down and start grabbing some of the fallen papers. It was quickly followed by another. 

Rather expensive bracelets decorated their wrists. A vibrant white chain-like material for the darker toned one, thin red threads on the paler one. His eyes shifted to their faces. 

Star and Paulina.

Danny shook himself out of his stupor; crystal eyes widening and he moved to start picking up his things. But he did so too quickly, as his head suddenly spun intensely. He tilted in his crouch before falling unceremoniously to his butt. He grunted and held his head in one hand. “Shit.”

Danny’s chest rattled, but he still reached forward to help get his things. If the two cheerleaders noticed his shaky breaths, they didn’t comment on it. 

Once everything was back in the worn bag, he zipped it completely to avoid another incident. 

“Danny.” Paulina’s teal eyes were looking down at him with exasperation; and he realized that he was still on the ground. Slowly the teen stood back up and tried to smile. It came out as an oddly tilted frown instead. 

“Thanks.” The halfa murmured, the muscles in his arm were shaking. 

_Oh yeah._

How’d he forget?

He moved the bag to his unhurt arm and started to walk away. Or he would’ve, had both Star and Paulina not suddenly grasped his shoulders and begun steering him in the other direction. “What-?”

“Be quiet and keep walking Fenton.”

So he did, utterly confused as to what was happening, but not awake enough to care. 

Ms. Namora’s class was next, and she was a mean, unbridled teacher. Always overly confident in her conclusions, assuming she knew what was best for you. It wouldn't be a bad idea to just ditch and go wherever the two prettiest girls in the school were taking him. 

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I need to get to-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll vouch for you loser.”

His mouth shut, eyes furrowed at the stern response from the latina. Limply he let himself be directed in the emptying hallway, getting odd looks from more than one kid. Soon enough, he found himself headed in the direction of the girl’s bathroom. Danny’s head tilted and he began resisting the girl's grip on him again. “You _serious_?”

“Yes,” Pauling said with a hard look, and pushed him a little roughly. He hissed quietly. “Now stop whining and go.” 

In the blink of an eye he was through the door and in front of one of the bathroom sinks, awkwardly standing in front of three freshman girls. 

“Out.” Paulina snapped from behind them. 

The three were quick to flee. 

When it was just him and the cheerleaders, the halfa felt oddly nervous, finding a hand coming up to rub the back of his head in habit. “Um.. Not that this isn’t just _super_ or anything, but what do you guys what?” He was honestly at a loss. 

The two ignored him and took off their bags, rummaging through them and pulling out multiple things. At the sight of the makeup boxes and wipes he promptly stiffened - then growled. 

The two girls jumped at the unexpected reaction. 

"Absolutely not." He shook his head, swinging his arms in an X motion. "I don't need this." He pushed past them to the door. 

It may have been rude of him, but just... _NO._ This could start questions he didn't want to answer. The ones he'd learned to avoid.

"Wait!" Star had run in front of him, blocking his escape. "Stay." 

The blonde looked so determined - it had him pausing. There was a crease in her forehead, a nervous energy around her body. His eyes narrowed. "I _don't_ need your _charity_." 

"Good, because we're not giving it to you." The accented, slightly annoying, high pitched voice piped up from behind him. Danny glanced back. "We just don't like seeing a crappy makeup job is all; and Fenton, you’re definitely no Picasso." She spoke so bluntly, nonchalantly. But he could see the underlying nervous (even guilty) pity on her face as was on Stars. 

He glared at her, or tried to; he wasn’t sure if it came out as intimidating as he wanted it to. “Whatever.” He sidestepped Star and made to push open the swinging door. 

That was when Paulina huffed and stomped a foot on the ground, like an indignant child. In a commanding voice she spoke out. "If you go out that door, I _will_ go and tell Mr. Lancer _._ "

He stopped stiff; a tremble racked his body. If Lancer was told, the teacher would look into it, ask him about the bruises because they were incredibly dark and _not healing like they should._ He couldn’t play them off as the teacher's imagination like he had in the past because of his miraculous ability to heal, because he just _wasn’t_ healing fast enough. The nurse would examine him, see the bandages, find the gash and mangled ribs, and then _the_ _scars._

They'd ask him about his home life.

He could see it. 

His parents would either be falsy accused of child abuse or his secret would be out. The Guys in White would be after him and he wouldn't be able to hide. His parents could also potentially join in their fun. 

His breath hitched. 

The room was suddenly too hot, even in the specially made hoodie and he itched to hike up the sleeves. But there was a scar on his forearm. Danny knew. It’d appeared three - maybe four - weeks ago. So Instead, he ran his hands through his messy hair; breaths coming and going harshly. 

Danny didn't want to deal with that. He _couldn't_ deal with that _._ He didn't even want to deal with _this_. 

He felt like he was about to puke.

Was he being irrational?

 ** _God_** **,** ** _he was_** **_tired._**

" _Jezus_ , Danny, calm down! It's okay, we're not going to tell Lancer." Star grabbed his wrists and Paulina was suddenly in front of him too, rubbing soothing circles in his shoulder. He found himself holding onto the girls forearms for support. Large gulps of air; _hold it in, then blow out the candle._ Sam’s voice. 

He wished she was there. 

_I’m right here for you dude, I’ll scare away the bad things with Foley, by Tucker Foley,_ he could see Tucker’s winning smile as he waved that wretched smelling cologne, _Enemies beware!_ He wished the techno geek was there. 

“It’s okay.”

“Just breath.”

“You’re okay.”

The two cheerleaders looked into his eyes and what he saw in theirs was a familiar type of understanding and care. How the two AListers had to have acquired that look was a mystery to him, but Danny found it oddly comforting. Star rubbed at his wrists. “Just let us help.”

The halfa nodded, swallowing thickly. He probably looked like a psycho, panicking over what probably seemed like nothing. “Okay. Okay.”

The halfa was ushered back to the sink, and the two girls got to work almost immediately; harmoniously. They set out tubes, powders, wipes, brushes… Star grabbed a wipe and made to start cleaning off the concealer he had put on. 

Danny flinched and shot up to latch a calloused hand to her arm. It wasn't a harsh grip, but a solid one. He nervously looked everywhere but her face. "Just… no questions." 

She nodded. "We promise."

It was a slow process… 

The cool, white wipe cleaned away his guise, and exposed the mangled black and blue color of his skin; the bags under his eyes. 

He saw Paulina hesitate a little. 

Danny let the girls do whatever they thought would work better than what he'd done before. He leaned on the sink slightly, eyes dropping. 

They would occasionally maneuver his head or move his hoodie and shirt from his neck and he'd occasionally wince. 

True to their words, there were no questions. 

It was silent. 

The state of consciousness lightly slipped away from him towards the end, but Star’s voice brought him back. 

"There." 

"We’re done." 

They were both smiling sadly at him. 

Hesitantly, he made to see himself in the mirror. 

What Danny saw made his body freeze up. The bathroom slipped away, the two girls slipped away, everything slipped away as he stared at a face from another life. 

The face that had once been _his_. 

Before the accident. Before the responsibilities. 

A stranger. 

Looking at the job the AListers did, the ache in his bones somehow felt fake. Danny could almost pretend that the last couple years didn’t exist, that he hadn’t had to fight for his life on more than one occasion, that he hadn't lost his future, that he wasn't terrified of being in his own home. 

His eyes glossed over with liquid. 

The muscles in his chin started to tremble and he grudgingly glared down at the sink; he felt like a child. 

_Why was this hitting him so deep?_

It was a dumb question because he knew the answer. 

He choked on an exhale, a sob clogging his pipes. 

_No._

He couldn’t break down like this in front of the cheerleaders. He’d already basically had a mini panic attack in front of them, he didn’t need to give them more leverage. These emotions were just coming out because of the sleep deprivation; no other reason. 

Yet he found himself unable to stop the silent flow of tears once they had started, his arms raked with simple tremors. 

He tried to focus on the grip he had on the crappy school sink; it didn’t work. 

The salty liquid still ran down his cheeks. 

Absently, he could feel the cheerleaders trying to console him, but they just didn’t know, couldn’t understand what it was like being him. Danny didn’t want their pity, but he found himself guiltily taking their comfort, latching onto the two when he practically stumbled back, unable to hold his weight by himself. 

This was _not_ where he thought he’d be the day before. This was _not_ what he thought he’d be doing. 

He felt so weak. 

All the muscles he had were shaking; they hadn’t stopped. 

_He felt so god damn weak._

Danny was turned around and two sets of thin arms wrapped around his middle gently. Pulling him in like his mother had so long ago. He laid his forehead down on one of their shoulders, not sure if it was Paulinas or Stars, but whoever it was smelled like coconut and vanilla. “ _I’m so tired._ ” 

They didn’t reply but the hold they had on him tightened; and he numbly realized that the two of them were _hugging him_ . Star and Paulina, hugging _him._

Surprisingly it didn’t feel forced or awkward like he was expecting, it felt natural and incredibly comforting. Was all he needed all along just a simple hug?

“I don’t want to do it anymore. I want my life back.” Danny whispered; his voice so small. Defeated. 

Four days. 

That was his limit. 

The hero slumped, back slouched, head down. He could fall asleep right here, standing up. The two cheerleaders wouldn’t care right? If he just closed his eyes and fell asleep...

A chill ran up his spine, blue mist pushing past his lips.

Danny’s eyes widened. 

And suddenly… something broke. 

He was **done**. 

Rage found its way to his core, filling his veins with its energy. 

He was exhausted. He was hurt. He was scared. Now... he was angry. 

A growl, deep and low thrummed out. 

The two girls were startled at his change in demeanor but he didn’t care. The halfa pulled away, practically bolting out of the bathroom without bothering to grab his bag. The depraved mind currently in control of his body was beyond reasoning and _dangerous_. 

Three feet out of the bathroom he bumped into someone; but he sidestepped and kept his pace down the hall, headless of the angry yell that followed him. 

He turned the corner, clenched his fists and transformed. Whoever had dared to show up was gonna be **_sorry_ **. 

  



	2. Chapter 2

**_chpt 2_ **

The thrill - The pleasure - The reward - The pride. 

Everything about the hunt was an addiction. A strong, clouded drive embedded into his very core, his utmost _desire_ 24/7. 

It was what got him killed in life and gave him purpose in death. 

Watching the life drain away - the spark leak from a prey’s eyes - was the single most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. And he takes it in with great, agonizing detail every time. 

His first kill - a doe - was a fond memory for him. 

It had been a humid day in spring. He remembers tracking with a faceless figure, spotting the slim animal for the first time, aiming and shooting. He remembers the pride - the weight of the animal as he took it’s corpse to a cabin. 

He remembers the feel, the sound, the _smell_ of the doe’s skin as he _peeled_ . He remembers the taste. He remembers the _satisfaction_. 

Skulker’s eyes glittered. 

_‘_ **_You’re_ ** _the ghost zone’s greatest hunter? Ha! What a joke! You wouldn’t even be able to catch a cold in antarctica!’_

The boy’s voice nagged him - rattling in his ectoplasmic head. 

His left eye twitched, head tilted as he glared at the photos littering the wall of his lair. An exotic creature - perhaps the rarest prey - he had ever pursued. 

Both dead and alive. 

A halfa. Exquisite and in its prime. 

The child wasn’t the only halfa - of course he knew that - but the boy was so unlike his older counterpart. So much more _authentic -_ with a very rare ice core to boot. 

Compared to the welp, Vlad was nothing more than an unstable imitation. A meagre human with a powerful disease. A _disease_ that had been fortifying the man's delusions for years and would ultimately be his downfall. 

If Skulker was being at all honest, he was disgusted by him. But while Vlad instilled that disgust, the welp instilled Skulker's pure unbridled desire.

His eyes narrowed. 

But the little brat was like a snake, slipping in and out of his fingers. He twitched again and curled his hands into fists. 

This hunt... was taking _far_ too long. 

It should’ve been done and over with ages ago. Yet here he was, mechanical hands empty. 

It was a constant grind in his head, a rock that had slowly been chipping away at his patience. He _yearned_ for the boy’s last breath. _Longed_ for his body to lose the little bit of warmth it still possessed. 

Skulker wanted to see his greatest enemy lying limp on the skinning table.

_“Good luck with that bucket head.”_

He grinned. 

* * *

So done. 

So _, so_ **_done._ **

This was _not_ okay.

His rage was strong - yes - he was complete and utterly _fed up -_ yes _-_ but he was also so unbelievably tired that these strong emotions were somewhat subdued in a bleary haze. 

Dim pain spiked behind his eyelids, an aching headache, induced by his lack of rest and the blazing sun. 

He shook his head and squinted, scanning the perimeter of his ghost sense. The early afternoon traffic was still bustling about, people leaving their home or their work to grab an early lunch or late breakfast. 

Small beads of sweat were already inching down the small of his back. His fists were clenched, muscles coiled. His suit felt uncomfortable. 

_Damn_. 

If he was this riled up before a fight, _something_ had to be very wrong. 

Luckily (or not) it hadn’t taken long. 

A strong ecto-blast seared into his shoulder. 

“ **_Welp_ **!”

If he was functioning at 100% he would’ve had half the mind to go intangible, dodge or _something_ when he saw Skulker barreling towards him. But he wasn’t, so he hadn’t.

A metal shoulder slammed into his side, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. 

A vague roar met his ears before a thick hand wrapped around his bandaged arm and threw him into a wall; brick from the feel of it. 

Cracks splintered out and away from his impact - another Phantom shaped indent in public property. 

He heaved. 

_Ok…_ **_ow_ ** _._

It hadn’t even been three seconds and already Danny’s whole body was coursing with adrenaline, thumping with pain. 

_This wasn’t going to be pretty._

He started to recover, pushing himself out of the makeshift mold only to be crushed back into the brick with a shrill cry. The pressure on his already abused rips ripped through his brain. 

His eyebrows furrowed and he grunted, futilely pushing back on the large arm. Skulker leered down at him, metal body gleaming like some sort of demented statue.

He gave Danny a dark grin.

“You’re gonna _die_ today.” His words whispered around the hero’s ears, uncomfortably warm and smelling like sulfur. **_“Fully_ **.”

Danny almost wanted to whimper, but forced a dark scowl on his face instead. He couldn’t let the hunter know how weak he was. How vulnerable he was feeling. 

_Tired_. 

His fingers tightened on Skulker’s arm. 

This was hardly his first death threat - just another out of many that had been spit in his face. Despite, silent tremors of fear cascaded down his spine. 

Danny tried not to think too hard on the possibility of the statement. 

He couldn't _afford_ to be shaken by it. He was the hero. And hero's don't crack under the pressure. 

His eyes narrowed - fists tingled.

“O-only in your dreams buckethead.”

Much quicker than Danny thought himself capable of, he let his arm drop down and shot out an ecto-blast, hitting Skulker in the gut. 

It caused the hold on his chest to go lax and Danny used the opportunity to deliver a harsh uppercut to the hunter’s jaw. 

Unlike their typical brawls, there were no insults, no witty comebacks, no _words_. Just a frenzied blur of limbs blowing through the city like a twister. 

This fight was serious - _deadly_. 

Danny - even through the flurry of movements - had subconsciously started leading the hunter away from civilians and towards the outskirts of town. There was a small forest there. A secluded place he often went to with Sam and Tucker to train his abilities in secret. 

_Pow!_

Danny’s head snapped to the left. 

A split lip, a swollen jaw followed by a sharp knee to the gut. The taste of copper filled his mouth - the fluorescent green dribbling down his chin. 

“What’s the matter, _welp_?” 

The air around him was shaky - or was it him that was shaking? He could feel bile rise up his throat. 

“You look **_tired_ **.” Skulker laughed, his smile unusually wide. The mirth Skulker was displaying only intensified the gut twisting dread in the pit of his stomach. 

Danny heaved, sweat mixing with his ectoplasm. His mind was racing. He couldn’t reply even if he wanted to.

\- _Crack -_

Danny fell to the ground, rolling with the momentum of his body. The grass was slick under him and he slipped a little before planting his feet. 

He panted roughly and shot consecutive blasts to Skulker’s shoulders. It stunted the hunter just long enough for the hero to pounce up and get a solid punch in, one he threw all his unbelievably high stress levels into. The impact caved in the metal of Skulker’s face and raked his knuckles.

Danny expected it to earn him a couple of precious seconds but was shocked by the instant retaliation. 

_“Ack!”_

“ **Gotcha**.”

Danny clawed at the hunter’s arm, eyes watering from the tight grip on his throat. He struggled against the hunter, shooting a leg out, but meeting nothing but air. Skulker’s large fingers tightened to a bruising point, forcing his nose to scrounge up in pain. 

In seconds he began to hear his own attempt at swallowing - his choking breaths - as if it were only millimeters from his ears. 

If Skulker started speaking again, odds are, Danny hadn’t heard him.

Black spots egged from the sides of his eyes. 

“N-no - !” 

Dammit, he couldn’t _think_. 

_-Shiskt-_

Cool metal poked dangerously into his stomach. He could feel the intense stream of ectoplasm starting to run down his hip and thigh.

He hadn’t realized his eyes started closing until he had to snap them open again. On pure instinct he felt his core hum with power, spreading to his hands and onto the arm holding him. The sensation was strange, desperate even, and the next thing Danny knew, he had hit the ground hard, gasping for his next breaths. 

One of his hands dug into the grass below, while his other came to hold his neck while he hacked out wet coughs. 

“ **You insufferable little-** **_!_ **”

“Leave him alone!”

His tilted vision rose towards the new voice. 

Three blurry figures were running up to them - _familiar_ figures. 

His eyes widened. 

Star, Paulina and - of all people - Dash. 

Every muscle protested the action, but he staggered to his feet.

With an almost nonexistent voice, Danny tried to ward them away. “Get- !”

Skulker came in with such force he collapsed to the ground, ears ringing. A foot pressed into his back and his spine arched. _“Ngh!”_

“ **_I’m going to skin you alive!_ **” 

Danny grunted heavily, willing himself to find more energy. With a heavy body, he intangibly swung around, shooting the most powerful blend of cyro-ecto energy he could muster point blank to Skulker’s chest. The hunter roared and was forcibly thrown a couple dozen yards away. Cracks of trees echoed after him. 

Danny heard Paulina’s voice.

His head snapped towards them.

_Protect, protect, protect._

His obsession was screaming at him. A newfound reserve of adrenaline shot through his veins. 

His tongue swished with the taste of blood. Bruised and winded, he stumbled to his feet and limped up to the gaping AListers, viciously aware of just how _overexerted_ he was. 

The world tilted, his legs trembled. 

Vision in his left eye was almost nonexistent and had an unnerving amount of green in it. “What’s _wrong_ with you guys?! Get- _*cough*_ -o-out of here _!_ ”

“Wait!” 

“No _-_ ”

Paulina shoved something in his arms, agitating the raw skin under his torn suit. It took him a second to realize it was a Fenton thermos. “You probably need this!”

Danny's eyes widened. 

The thermos had been in his bag... back in the bathroom. 

He cursed.

_How could he make such a rookie mistake?_

“Please -” He grunted. “ _go_.”

The halfa took off, however shakily, without checking to see if they had actually listened. Skulker could still be down, which meant it was a perfect opportunity to snag him in the thermos.

But of course it was never that easy. 

White pain exploded behind his eyes. A ear splitting boom and went crashing through the forest, breaking through a couple branches before uplifting the ground with his landing. A sickening pop met his ears and he barked out a pained scream. 

His right shoulder, that was already blistered and bleeding, was now dislocated. Black dots egged his vision. 

He blacked out for a second, jolting awake to spit out a grotesque mixture of grass, dirt, and blood. He groaned.

**_Bam!_ **

A missile hit the ground next to him and he skid across the grass, flickering into intangibility on pure instinct. The hero sunk into the ground, unintentionally using the smoke as cover and rising up a couple feet behind Skulker. He summoned blue, whispy, power in both of his palms, releasing two combined blasts at the unexpecting hunter’s back. 

Ice encased Skulker and seconds later, Danny came in with a sloppy kick. The ice shattered, as well as a huge chunk of Skulker’s back, along with the arsenal of weapons residing there.

Danny fumbled with the thermos once before he was able to open it. 

Then the hunter whipped around. 

There was a crazy look in Skulker’s eyes. One that Danny had never known the hunter capable of having. Skulker’s suit was bent, ripped and sparking behind him only amplifying that crazy. His arm - that Danny assumed was the one that had choked him out - was torn up, the green ectoskeleton shining gooey and gross underneath. 

Their eyes locked. 

“Not **this time!** ”

Danny had gained an advantage with the destruction of Skulker’s arsenal, but didn’t account for the weapon still under the plating of the hunters arm. 

A large net hit him point blank, wrapping around his body and closing into a coerced cocoon. The thermos slipped through his fingers. 

He hit the ground with an _‘ompf!’_

The net was warm; and that was the only warning before intense electrictricity racked his body - and oh god. 

Electricity wasn’t fun even on the best of days, but this - this was _painful_ . This was borderline _portal pain_ and he _screamed_. 

Danny could hardly feel the pain of his other injuries - too focused on the fire coursing through his blood. His back arched, his body convulsed. 

When it finally ended, phantom currents hovered over his skin. His throat burned. 

… 

Was he breathing? His body was twitching, lurching. He wasn’t getting enough _air_. The net was still burning. 

He dozed. 

“Dash!”

 **_-_ ** _Crash -_

**_“NO!”_ **

A plethora of sounds had him fighting the abyss. He tried to lift an arm, but it… it didn’t work. 

Hands grabbed at the net around him, pulling. Danny hissed and choked on a sob as the burning became more intense. 

“Stop! - not helping - !”

“Well - got to - ”

The voices were cut and jumbled, much too far away. 

And finally - finally everything went dark. 


End file.
